Screaming
by Justabibliophile
Summary: From the first time Draco called Hermione a Mudblood, Ron always knew she would be in danger.


From the first time Draco called Hermione a Mudblood, Ron always knew she would be in danger.

He'd never thought about Hermione's Muggle born status at first. He already knew how Muggle borns had been treated during the First Wizarding War, but he didn't bat an eyelid when he found out. Judging by blood status seemed ridiculous to him, and Voldemort was gone anyway, right?

His father had been called a blood traitor once, but Ron didn't know what it meant. He'd heard the stories of how some pureblood families acted, but he just didn't believe it. It seemed like a far off reality.

Besides, though he'd never say it out loud, he thought Hermione was brilliant. How could anyone judge her?

Then, second year.

He'd beamed with pride as Hermione absolutely destroyed Draco when he made fun of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was nice to see him struggling for a response, when…

"_No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood._"

The roaring in Ron's ears was so loud, he couldn't hear the shouting that had exploded around him. He couldn't have said that. Not here. Not in Hogwarts. The others around Draco were jeering and clapping. About _that? _How dare they? _How dare they?_

And in them, he could see the faces of their fathers and mothers. So many of them had been Death Eaters. They had gotten off without punishment with their excuses of being under the Imperius Curse, but their hatred for Muggle borns had been real. It fueled their bones and their blood. They had passed that hatred onto their children.

Then he looked at Hermione. The bushy-haired witch who could perform spells better than any of them. Understand every lesson they learned and solve every riddle they came across. She was brilliant, Hermione Granger.

And there were people willing to hurt his Hermione just because of her blood status.

With that realization in mind, he struck, only to find himself with Hagrid, face burning with humiliation. Hermione had asked him what the word meant, and he couldn't bear to tell her. He knew she could tell it was rude, but she didn't know what it really meant. She didn't know that so many people out there would target her specifically. He wanted her to think that everyone thought she had a fair chance in this world. He wanted her to think that nobody would try to step over her because of her blood.

But she wanted to know the truth, and he told her.

Hermione had been reassured quickly. She'd acted like everything was fine, and that Draco didn't scare her. But Ron could see beyond the armor she put up that it did frighten her. He could see she was slowly starting to realize the danger she was in. He could see the way her eyes shifted slightly when blood was ever mentioned. It was during those moments that he imagined them hurting her.

It was during those moments that he imagined her screaming.

The year only seemed to get worse. The Chamber of Secrets was opened, and an unknown creature was going after the Muggle borns. It wasn't right. This was Hogwarts. People like Draco could bring their ideals in, but the school itself had to be safe. But no. Part of the very foundation had been built on Muggle prejudice.

_It won't happen to her, _Ron told himself. _She'll be safe. She has to be safe._

He'd blocked the entire situation out of his mind. He'd never even considered that Hermione may be attacked until Draco said he wished for it to happen. And his blood was boiling. He was wishing _death _on her. For no reason. He wanted that creature to kill her.

Ron didn't know what made him snap, the fact that Draco suggested it, or the fact that it could very well happen.

* * *

"Hermione," he whispered. It was late at night, and she was buried in a book as they sat together in the Gryffindor common room.

"Yes?" She asked without looking up.

"Be careful." He'd been dying to say the words to her for days, but he just couldn't.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, but from the way she paled, Ron knew she didn't need explanation.

"You already know. The Muggle-borns are getting attacked." His voice cracked. "Please be careful. I can't walk into the hospital wing and see you there."

"You won't," she said, her voice low. "I'll be fine. I promise."

Ron had known so many people who'd broken their promises, but this one stung the most. He came in and saw her lying there, completely lifeless. He could do nothing but whisper her name. All because of her blood status.

At least she wasn't dead. But she could very well be soon.

Then she'd come back to him and she was breathing and warm and alive and smiling and he pushed it all away. He covered the image of her lying there. It didn't matter. She was back.

But in his nightmares, he would still hear her screaming.

One blissful year went by with no sign of Voldemort. Ron almost thought that maybe she'd be alright. Maybe he didn't have to worry anymore.

Then the Dark Mark was in sky.

Voldemort was coming back. Ron's stomach twirled as he feared for everyone around him. For Harry, for his parents, for his siblings, for Hermione.

Most of Draco's group didn't rub it in their faces that much. But he knew deep down they were just doing it so no one would suspect them. He could still see the barely disguised glee on their faces.

He kept telling himself it was just to get inside his head. They were just trying to bother him…

Then Harry came back from the final task and Ron knew it was true.

With everyone around him calling Harry a liar, it would've been so easy to believe that they were right. Everyone was safe, and Voldemort wouldn't return. But his best friend wasn't a liar. Voldemort was out there.

He didn't really process it much until the Department of Mysteries. Before, he was mainly trying to convince everyone Harry wasn't lying, without really thinking about what he was saying. But it really was true, wasn't it? A new war had begun. War always had casualties.

He couldn't handle it if Hermione was one of them.

The next year, Ron was struggling with his feelings the whole time, leading to decisions that tore him farther and farther away from her. Yet even as the anger inside of him increased, he couldn't imagine himself being any less terrified of her death. After every argument they had, he asked himself what would happen if they died tonight. If that was the last thing she saw of him.

They'd made up by the end, sure, but that didn't erase what was to come.

When the horcrux hunt began, he almost thought of asking her to stay home. The thought was quickly erased. This was Hermione Granger, and she wasn't going to back down at this point. He wanted so badly to protect her, but he found her drifting further and further away from him. He just couldn't swallow the anger or the jealousy.

When he finally did, it was too late.

It didn't matter how much Ron fought against them. He and Harry were still being dragged to the cellar, and Hermione was left at the mercy of a madwoman. It was stinging his skin to be so far away from her. He had to get to her, he had to get to her, he had to get her. He had to hear her again.

It was a cruel twist of irony then, that he longed to hear her voice and ended up hearing her cries.

He had heard Bellatrix snarling at her and only felt pure fiery rage. Hermione was up there with her. Hermione was about to be hurt for nothing more than her heritage. If they could just make it up there in time…

But there was no time. The command of _Crucio _went straight through him, his brain refusing to process it. But the deed had been done.

She was screaming.

All of Ron's worst nightmares coming true. Every insult ever thrown against her piled in his head until he was a little boy again, confused that such prejudice existed in this world. Vowing to protect her from that prejudice, and refusing to consider what would happen if he failed. He'd imagined this moment a hundred times. He never imagined he would feel like he was being stabbed repeatedly. He never imagined it would seem as if he was being up there tortured instead. And he never imagined how desperately he wished it was him up there, if only she could be safe.

But she wasn't. She just wasn't. He'd fought to keep her safe, but it hadn't worked in the end. She was still up there and he was down here, unable to do anything but listen to her piercing shrieks over and over and over.

He could do nothing but struggle to escape, shouting as much as he could. There was no chance anything could stop the pain she was going through, but maybe if she just heard his voice, if she knew they were coming for her, she wouldn't break.

But Bellatrix could break her. She could break anyone if she wanted to, and she would enjoy it the whole time. And if she broke Hermione, what could he do about it? He could hurt Bellatrix all he wanted. That wouldn't bring Hermione back. If he lost her now, he lost her forever.

The thought forced him to crumple to the ground, all while she was screaming and screaming and screaming.

* * *

And now Ron was sitting at her bedside as she struggled to recover. The screaming had ceased, but he could still hear it pounding in his ears. He felt like a hollow shell. He wanted so badly to do _something, _but he could just wait at this point. Wait for Hermione, this amazing, brilliant girl to wake up after having just been tortured.

It was like he was a little boy all over again, listening to all the horrors people had committed and asking that one innocent question. _How can anyone be so mean? _He just couldn't understand why anyone would do it.

He still didn't understand it. But it was happening anyway.

All he wanted was for her to be kept safe, and here they were. Maybe it was naive to think he could have accomplished it, but he let himself hope anyway. As if they were one of those Muggle fairy tales Hermione used to tell him about. He'd said they were ridiculous, but he couldn't deny how alluring the idea of a completely happy ending had been. He'd thought maybe if he'd just tried hard enough, it could have been real.

But no. There was so much death, so much pain, and so much hatred.

Hermione murmured softly in her sleep. That was good, a sign that she would wake up eventually. And she would probably insist on going with them anyway. Because that was Hermione. She would never back down from anything.

And maybe he shouldn't try to stop her. There was no point in trying so hard to protect her. Obviously, he could help, but nobody was ever completely safe, whether in a world of war or a world of peace. There was just nothing he could do about it.

But there was something he could do. Because after the battle had left marks on both of them, they could help each other climb out of the hole they'd fallen into. No one could survive the aftershock without support, and that was what he could be.

Even though he couldn't stop her from screaming, he could always be there to hold her when it was over.


End file.
